


Sweet Things

by nellipot



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Blowjobs, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Masturbation, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Size Difference, ish, pining?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-03-24 11:56:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 20,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13810689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nellipot/pseuds/nellipot
Summary: Timmy's never said he liked being Armie's baby, but Armie must know, or must know by now.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we'll see how this goes
> 
> ***obvi none of this is real, i made it up, Armie and Timmy are thriving doing whatever it is kings do, this story is just to entertain myself

Timmy’s never said he liked being Armie’s baby, but Armie must know, or must know by now. The first time he realized he wanted it, needed to feel loved and coddled and safe in Armie’s arms was 3 weeks into shooting. He knew by then that what he and Armie had together was special and like nothing he’d ever experienced. It was so easy between them, mindless touches in passing, quiet huddles in the corner after one of Luca’s long dinners, silent conversations in each other’s eyes. The talk would have gone like this if they had one: “You feel that too, right?” They would ask, stopped on the corner of a street Timmy would wish he remembered. “Of course I do,” They would say, shaking, smiling, eyes rolling. 

They were finished for the day but were still hanging around set, talking to crew members who were also avoiding the quiet rooms they went home to. They were a family now; it was difficult to think of a time where they weren’t. 

“I don’t know why you keep bringing it up, you know it was traumatizing to me,” Armie said insistently, even though he was laughing through his words. 

“You did great! I’m telling you that you did great I mean, I personally liked your interpretation of what “dancing” is, you know,” Timmy couldn’t even get through his compliment without bursting into laughter. He buried his head into Armie’s chest while Armie rolled his eyes and smoothed down Timmy’s hair, hand going to rest on the back of his neck. They were all laughing, recounting the previous night where they filmed Armie over and over pumping both his fists in the air and rocking awkwardly to no music. 

“We can’t all be LaGuardia alums who have been dancing since birth” Armie pulled Timmy away from his body so he could meet his eyes with raised eyebrows. Timmy grinned up at him. 

“What can I say? I mean,” he finished his sentence with a spin and his moonwalk dance he solo’d the night before. The crew was laughing and Armie was making a face at them like, “do you see what I have to deal with?”, but Timmy wasn’t watching the boundary where the grass becomes the driveway, and he tripped over his ankle and landed on the concrete, hands somewhat bracing his fall. They all rushed over to him but Armie was first, kneeling on the ground and sitting him up. 

Armie stroked his thumb over Timmy’s cheek and looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. 

“You okay baby?” He asked. 

Just like that, air wasn’t coming into Timmy’s lungs. For a brief second, he just stared at Armie with his lips parted, hearing nothing but his heart pounding in his ears before he nodded repeatedly and wrapped his arms around Armie’s neck. 

Armie rubbed his back and brought him into his lap easily, and Timmy felt so small and delicate. The crew watched with concerned looks over Armie’s shoulder.

“Does it hurt when you move it?” Armie asked, cradling Timmy and rubbing at the bone on his ankle gently. Timmy shook his head into Armie’s collarbone, not quite ready for words, just too overwhelmed by how much he liked this. Everyone could see that he was Armie’s to care for.

He’d been this close to Armie before, was almost always in contact with him in some way, whether it be their ankles crossed together while they were sitting on the couch or Timmy tucked under Armie’s arm while everyone was chatting around them. But Armie calling him baby made him feel so warm, he just wanted to relive it again and again. 

“I’m going to take my damsel home now I think, are you okay with walking Tim? You want me to get a car?” Timmy nodded at the second option. Everyone voiced their apologies for Timmy getting hurt and Timmy finally detached himself from Armie long enough to smile as he received pats on the head or shoulder while they all said goodbye. 

When they were alone, Timmy leaned his head back down onto Armie’s shoulder and watched him call the cab service they used when they were a little too tipsy to walk home in a straight line. Armie hung up and looked at Timmy, letting his hand go up and down on his calf and giving him a small smile.

“You should really tell me how much it hurts, I don’t want it to get worse and we have to go to the hospital later-”

“I’m okay, it hurt at first but I’ll be fine.” Timmy assured. It really did hurt, but he knew it was nothing serious. Being fawned over made his chest feel full.

“Okay,” Armie pushed back the hair falling on Timmy’s forehead. “Okay good.” And started to get them both up. 

They limped their way to the cab when it came to take their short ride back to their apartments. Timmy rested his legs on Armie’s lap and curled in to keep his head on Armie’s chest. Armie wrapped his arms around him and rested his chin on Timmy’s head. Timmy knew this was more than a normal amount of touching for them, but his brain was still kind of hazy and scrambling for contact, and Armie thankfully wasn’t shaking him off. 

Armie argued that Timmy shouldn’t be in his own room today, because “What if it starts feeling weird! What if you fall down and make it worse!?” He understood that Armie was also probably picking up on how needy he was being and factoring it in to his concern, but Timmy assured him again that it would be okay, and that they were both in the same building, and that he would call if he needed anything.

Timmy finally won him over and shut the door to his empty apartment. He fell onto his bed, smothering his head into the pillows. He knew what he felt for Armie, knew that Armie wasn’t too far away from those feelings, but this? What he wanted, needed from Armie now? 

It was embarrassing, going so pliant after Armie said one word, the heady feeling he got when Armie touched him like he was fragile. Then he couldn’t _stop_ touching Armie, needed to smush his face into Armie every chance he got. Was this okay? Had he made a fool of himself? Could it happen again? 

He laid back on his bed staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, trailing his fingers up and down his stomach then into his shorts. He palmed himself lazily until he started bucking up into the touch. Closing his eyes, he remembered. “Are you okay baby?” “Are you okay, baby?” “Areyouokaybaby?” 

He could feel the warmth of Armie’s neck on his nose, how he could have mouthed at that spot as Armie rubbed at his calf, getting higher and higher up his leg whispering sweet things in his ear. He came with soft moans and his back arched as he jutted up into his hand, imagining it was Armie’s sure fingers wrapped around him. He cleaned up without any answers.

——

He was shy when Armie came up to his door the next day so they could walk together to set. He opened it, still in a big t-shirt with his hand scratching at the back of his messy hair. 

“Still not awake yet, sleepy?” Armie grinned as he walked in, hand sliding across Timmy’s stomach as he went past. 

“I’m sorry” Timmy said softly with his eyes flitting quickly, trying to remember how he would normally respond to Armie’s teasing. Armie turned around. 

“You never have to say sorry to me” He said like it was obvious. He grabbed Timmy’s hips. “Sit down please.” Timmy found himself being half-pushed, half carried onto his sofa and made a soft sound of confusion. 

“What are you doing?” He laughed in surprise. Armie fell down next to him and brought Timmy’s leg up into his lap. “I’m checking to see if your twisted ankle is making you fucking weird” He inspected Timmy’s leg by looking around and under it, lifting it in unnecessary positions. 

“Cut it out!” Timmy laughed, knocking his forehead onto Armie’s shoulder. Armie was so good at understanding people, and knowing what the right thing was to say. Timmy felt himself coming back just how Armie intended. “I’m fine, I swear!” He insisted. Armie shrugged and threw Timmy’s leg off of his lap.

“Then get ready already! What are you standing around for?” Timmy rolled his eyes, pushed Armie’s temple away with his fingers and got up.

“I wasn’t _standing_ genius”

“That was part of the problem!” He heard Armie call out from the couch. 

So he tried to stop thinking about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ya'll know he's not gonna stop thinking about it ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1500 words of Timmy being Frustrated™

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for commenting, I'm still trying to figure everything out w this and i'm glad it is being well received

Armie walked through Timmy’s door with a dress shirt tucked into his Oliver-swim-shorts and a green onion stalk in his hand. 

“I didn’t have a flower” He shrugged.

“What are you talking about?” Timmy chuckled incredulously.

“We’re going out!”

Timmy paused and looked like he was contemplating the idea. 

“Why do you even have a green onion?”

“They’re the perfect garnish to every dish, next question.”

“How many times will you call the waiter over for more bread before you make me do it?

“Two times, you always waste the third one.”

“How do you order a steak in Italian without it being brought out completely raw?”

“You’re a little shit,”

Timmy laughed as Armie bounded towards him and he blocked the onslaught with a cross of his arms, Armie poking and prodding at his sides until he was breathless and limp.

Timmy was being normal; he was being _so_ normal. He prided himself on not getting over emotional and dazed, or too quiet, or too focused on one specific part of Armie’s body while he watched him talk. Not his lips when he smiled, or his large, strong hands, or the way his collarbone protruded as he looked down at him. He especially didn’t compare the width of Armie’s chest with his own, or imagine how it would look if Armie covered him with his body, how he would be completely hidden under his golden skin. It was as if he had forgotten the whole thing ever happened. 

Except he didn’t, and he couldn’t, and every touch from Armie was not enough anymore. The tension that was always between them was still there, and now there was that something else, that extra thing that was eating at Timmy’s insides every time he did something that warranted Armie’s attention.

Like when they were filming at Monet’s berm, and Armie was holding onto his face so firmly, guiding their kiss no matter how enthusiastic and overpowering Timmy was as Elio. Armie would linger there after Luca yelled cut, dragging his hands down to his neck carefully and breathing a little hard.

“Okay?” He would ask expectantly.

“No complaints.”

He asked it again after every take that day, always wanting to make sure he wasn’t doing something Timmy didn’t like or shoving him too hard onto the grass. Timmy didn’t chide him for it, he was preening under his concerns. 

Armie was ten years older than him, and it wasn’t always noticeable until he did something like that: looked out for Timmy in a way that showed his experience with working on difficult days. There were so many people around them as they did this very intimate thing, it would have been hard to stay grounded if not for Armie’s soft words or whispered jokes. 

Other times, Armie could be booming, demanding, and defiant. He would want to wrestle or race, and was quick to laugh unabashedly at Timmy’s obscure references or stories. He was so easily the big strong leader and the soft spoken protector, and both contributed to Timmy’s desire for him.

He pushed Armie off of him to get ready; he didn’t have any shorts on when the man barged into his room announcing they were going to dinner. The square was right below his villa, so they headed out and down the street to the restaurant they’d been frequenting during their stay. 

Timmy didn’t realize how hungry he was until they were sitting at their usual table on the left, smelling the olive oil and herbs and onions that wafted throughout the small space. Armie slouched in his chair, legs immediately reaching to hook around Timmy’s as he looked through the menu.

“Do I want the piccata this time?” He asked without looking up.

“You ask me this whenever we come, and you always get the veal.”

“I could be feeling a piccata tonight.” He weighed the option on his lower lip.

Timmy rolled his eyes and continued to squint at the menu. 

When the waiter came, Armie smiled at him charmingly and said in Italian-English hybrid, “I’ll have the veal, and he’s going to have pizza, just cheese.”

 _Fuck_ , Timmy liked that he ordered for him. _Fuck_.

He didn’t try for any witty quip at Armie’s boldness, mostly because he couldn’t think of anything beyond _are you trying to make me hard_ , but he could feel heat rising on his face as he handed the waiter his menu sheepishly and brought his attention to the bread on the table. 

“Is that not what you wanted?” Armie looked at him innocently.

“That’s exactly what I wanted.” Timmy croaked. It made Armie smile proudly, endearingly, and rip part of the focaccia out of Timmy’s hand to stuff in his mouth. Timmy stared dumbly around the room, trying to avert his eyes as they were probably blown wide and dark at this point. A fucking order? All it took was Armie ordering for him to make him feel that unclaimed energy rush in his limbs? He wanted to cling, touch, but he was trapped in that seat, ironically by the legs of the man he wanted to wrap himself around. It wasn’t _enough_. 

Armie blew on his veal before he fed it to him, and Timmy just accepted it helplessly, using any restraint he had left to stop himself from leaning too eagerly up towards his fork. Armie leaned his arm around him and rubbed his pale bicep when he shivered from the breeze, and Timmy just accepted it helplessly, heart thumping in time with their steps.

“I’m not gonna do it, I’m not gonna do it,” Timmy whispered as he shucked his shorts off immediately upon closing the door to his room. He scrunched his eyes tight and dug the heal of his hand into his crotch, leaning weakly on the wall nearest to his entryway.

“I’m better than this,” He whined, pulling his dick out of his boxers bitterly but sighing, open mouthed, when he finally was able to stroke himself.

It felt so good, Armie made him feel so good, _fuck_ , was this really what he was becoming? 

“Yes, yes, yes,” He answered breathily, knocking his head on the wall as he nodded.

Armie’s broad chest under his small body, Armie feeding him with his fingers, Armie showing everyone he wanted him, owned him, spoke for him. Timmy’s eyes rolled back at the thoughts, and his head curled onto his shoulder as he pumped himself faster, needing to come so badly, needing to come all night.

It spurted all over his hand and his thigh when he did, and he groaned at how messy he had become, at how messy he wanted Armie to see him as. 

This was not going to stop anytime soon, and tonight was him trying his _best_.

——

Timmy went into the nosebleed scene feeling confident in his abilities to Not Think About It. They were filming Armie and him in that cramped space huddled in the living room. He flirted how Elio would, tracing his finger up and down Armie’s chest as he massaged Timmy’s foot, moaned and grabbed at Armie’s shirt when he dug in too deep. Armie smiled, let it happen, always so responsive when Timmy tried things out in a take. He tucked Timmy’s legs between his thighs to start massaging his other foot. But then the fucker decided to improvise.

He looked Timmy in the eyes, brought his foot to his mouth and kissed it suddenly, something that was not in the script. It was such a private thing, their eyes locking, like Armie did that just for them. Like Elio was Timmy and Oliver was Armie, instead of the other way around. 

It took all Timmy had not to arch into thin air from the pleasure that thought gave him, that Armie just couldn’t help himself but kiss him wherever he could reach. His mouth was open and he knew he was staring at Armies lips as Luca yelled cut and even for a little while after that. It felt like he was breathing really hard. Was he breathing too hard? He tried to see if his chest was moving through his peripherals. 

“Tim, come back to me, where you at?” Armie ducked his head to meet Timmy’s eyes and squeezed his shoulder. “Should I have run that by you? It felt pretty right.” He shrugged.

“I – ah, no. No, that was good. It was good.” Timmy patted Armie’s hand where it rested on his collarbone and nodded. As much as he was trying to contain everything he was feeling, he couldn’t stop himself from tilting his head, rubbing his cheek on the man’s knuckles, needing _something_ to take the edge off like he was a fucking smoker. He felt helplessly ridiculous. 

But Armie smiled, turned his hand towards Timmy’s face and thumbed at the skin there. “You’re like a little puppy,” he said, shaking his head. He untangled their legs carefully and held a hand out to pull Timmy up. If Timmy didn’t let go for a couple of seconds after they started walking away, too mesmerized by his small fingers in between Armie’s large ones, Armie didn’t seem to mind enough to say anything.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will drunk Timmy put his foot in his mouth? Will he put his foot in Armie’s mouth? The _suspense_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long, mid terms, you know?

Under the lights strung up on Luca’s patio fence, Timmy drooped to rest his temple on the back of his chair lazily. The night was comfortably warm, the white noise of laughter buzzed softly, and the sharp wine coating his tongue was all he was coherent enough to think about. 

He was…gracelessly detached. There was no way the alcohol would allow him to care about any swooping stomach or pounding heart. He danced with Esther, linking their fingers together and pushing her around the small deck. He clinked glasses with Luca, more than twice maybe, just to make sure they got it right. It was bliss.

Armie wavered in and out of his line of sight, the man seemed to be bouncing to different smatterings of people every time Timmy looked over, but he always managed to give him a smile if Timmy caught his eye. 

Timmy enjoyed this false sense of security, and easily acknowledged it as that. He was getting better at recognizing that this was how his life was going to go: Armie ignorant of the effect his protective nature had, and him using all of his will power to keep himself from necking him on the spot. 

He almost gave in to this desire a couple nights before. They were hanging around his room, lazily spread on the couch watching some Mike Tyson documentary they came upon when Elizabeth’s contact popped up on Armie’s phone. 

“My woman!” Armie blurted happily, accepting her facetime request. Timmy leaned in close so he could be in the shot when it connected.

“Elizabethhhhh” Timmy dragged out with a wide smile, throwing peace signs at himself in the corner of the screen.

“Timothee, _darling_ ” She drawled dramatically, hand clutching her chest and laughter in her voice.

Timmy leaned his shoulder over Armie’s chest to get a better view, the camera only reaching as far as the bridge of his nose with the angle. 

“How are you!” he pressed.

Armie’s eyes flitted between them cheerfully, following their words even though he’d probably, definitely, heard these updates already. 

“Alright, don’t let me – I’m getting in the way now, you should talk to your husband,” Timmy tried for an elegant bow out but Armie didn’t let him, just put his hand over his chest and brought him into his body. 

“Don’t do that,” Armie said into his hair. He melted immediately under his grasp.

That’s how he ended up with his head under Armie’s chin for another 45 minutes, as they asked Liz what she and Harper had for dinner, recounted every dumb movie they had watched together on tv since they’d been in Crema, talked about Armie right in front of him.

“Yes, and sometimes he doesn’t shave close enough…” Timmy looked back to pet two fingers against Armie’s cheek for emphasis.

“It’s inconsiderate!”

“Sooo inconsiderate.” 

“I have never done a single thing wrong in my life.” Armie dismissed. 

The only reason they stopped was because the 9-hour difference started to hit them. They said goodbye, then said one more thing, then goodbye for real. 

When the phone screen went black and Timmy noticed how Armie’s hand had never left his chest, he nuzzled back into the man instinctually. What was two inches closer really? What was the harm in a turn of his head, a kiss to Armie’s shoulder, his neck, his lips? Armie had let him stay, told him to stay, maybe Armie would let him do this too. It was hard to tell what he was trying to convince himself of anymore.  

“That’s enough for you I think,” Timmy heard the voice behind him and tipped his head all the way over the back of his chair. He leaned up to bump his nose against the Adam’s apple he saw in front of him and laughed.

“Oh boy,” Armie’s exasperated sigh disagreed with his warm smile, with the gentleness his hand exhibited as it palmed back curls that were already hanging down from Timmy’s position.  

“Spiderman, spiderman…” Timmy sing-songed in a whisper. Armie seemed to be getting blurred with the night sky above him, Timmy’s eyes flitted over his face to keep him in focus. 

“Wow, yeah, you’re not living that one down.” But it still earned him a kiss to his hair.

Armie circled around to face him, pulled the glass out of his hand, and scooped him up unceremoniously out of the chair.

“I’m not ready to go yet,” Timmy’s eyes were closed but he made up for it with continuous shakes of his head.

“Tim, I’ve been watching you stare at nothing for the past 7 minutes, you’re ready to go.”

Timmy pulled his arm out from where it was wedged between their bodies and got his hand onto Armie’s face. 

“Just because you’re the boss of me, doesn’t mean you’re the _boss_ of me.” He said between slaps to the man’s cheek. 

“Noted.” Armie nodded.

He felt touches to his face as they walked through the house, people cooing and amused that he was cradled to Armie’s chest. He waved and smiled at all of them.

He was only set down to be pushed into a cab and crawled right back over to Armie once he was settled, because Armie felt _nice_ under his hands. Timmy leaned his face on Armie’s shoulder and started playing with the pad of Armie’s thumb.

“I danced today.” He said. He wanted Armie to know.

“I saw,” Armie said, slinking an arm around him. He could feel the man’s breath on his forehead. “Did you have fun?” He asked, like Timmy was a child getting picked up from school. It made him smile. He nodded.

They arrived at their apartments and he got to hold Armie’s hand all the way up the stairs, until Armie stopped them at the door and began searching Timmy’s pockets for his key. He wasn’t helpful, even though he knew it was front left, he just leaned his whole weight on Armie’s chest.

“Baby, work with me,” Armie laughed. It just made him slide his arms around Armie’s waist and rub his face all over him. How was any of this counterproductive?

Armie was able to coerce him through the doorway and into his bedroom. Timmy jumped up on his bed, swung his legs and gave Armie a thumbs up, grinning widely. Armie rolled his eyes. He knelt down, untied Timmy’s shoes, and pulled them off gently. 

“Up, up,” He whispered, put Timmy’s hands around his neck so they would rise together. At any other time, Timmy would have been a nervous wreck. Does Armie know that?

“You don’t make me nervous” Timmy said, with his arms braced on Armie’s shoulders. Armie laughed, hands fiddling with the button on Timmy’s jeans. He hooked his thumbs into them to slide them down Timmy’s body, held Timmy’s ankles as he lifted his feet out of the holes. 

“You don’t make me nervous either,” 

Timmy only barely registered how quiet the whole room was as Armie got him back into bed. 

“You want water?” 

Timmy shook his head. He got covers pulled over him snuggly.

“Don’t go okay?” He whispered, already falling asleep.

“I won’t,” There was a hand on his hair and the words were faint as he drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments! Thank you for reading this!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just, like, so much fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this!
> 
> *if you read this before March 13, I added some things, the timing wasn't right and it bugged me.

Timmy woke up cold. His body ached from the way he was balled up to keep in heat, his head felt like it was weaving back and forth across the room. He scrunched his nose in disdain, eyes barely open, as he looked around groggily. His mind was beginning to catch up with his body. He must have kicked his blanket off the bed during the night.

He put his cold feet on the cold floor, got up and didn’t really know what he was looking for. Food sounded gross. The sunlight coming through the blinds went straight to the back of his skull. He rubbed his eyes, let his body stumble into the living room. 

Armie was there. Armie, a man who was almost six and a half feet, was bending himself on the small sectional in front of his TV. He looked about as comfortable as Timmy had been all night, his legs tucked into the couch’s back cushions, his mouth slightly open and shoved onto a throw pillow. It hurt Timmy’s chest, the affection that came over him. It led him to the front of the couch. 

He shook Armie’s shoulder. The man’s head bounced up, and he tilted his face so he could see through his eyelashes. 

“My blanket fell on the floor.” Timmy informed him, because he was dopey and hungover and just wanted Armie to be the one who warmed up his feet.

It didn’t look like the words were registering, but Armie still scooted back onto his side and held one arm up for Timmy to get under. He crawled to lie next to him, put his back against the man’s chest and felt an odd relief. Armie got a hand under his shirt, his fingers spreading on his tummy to hold him back on his body. They settled together so easily, which hurt Timmy’s chest in a different way, Armie’s lips resting on the back of his neck and his breath going down his spine. 

He grasped at Armie’s arm, could only hold him there and stretch to expose his neck further. He hummed softly before sleep took him again. 

Timmy woke up warm. There were legs tangled up in his, a body pressed into his back and a hand rubbing circles on his hip. He turned around to push his face into the heat.

“Good morning,” Armie whispered, a laugh in his words. Timmy made a noise in response. 

“You feeling shitty? How much wine did you drink?” Armie was combing a hand through his hair and he just grumbled again, his sounds getting muffled in Armie’s shirt. 

Armie sighed, wrapped two arms around Timmy’s back and pulled him on top of his body. Timmy propped his chin up to look at him.

“How come you stayed?” He asked, eyebrows scrunching together.

Armie shrugged and drew patterns on his back. “You asked me to stay.” Well, fuck.

“Oh god,” Timmy groaned. He hid his face in one hand. “Should I be embarrassed?”

“Yes, definitely” Armie laughed. “I hate when people want me around.”

He always forgot that he didn’t need to freak out when it came to them. He smiled and rolled his eyes, pushed at Armies shoulder. Armie raised his eyebrows. 

“Oh, it’s like that now?”

Timmy smiled wickedly. He pushed Armie again like a challenge. His wrist was immediately taken in the man’s hand and he shouted a laugh. He tried to pull away but Armie’s grip was too strong, pushing him into the couch and wrangling him into submission. Timmy squeaked and kicked but couldn’t get leverage as Armie pressed into his ribs.

“No! No!” Timmy laughed, screaming and trapped, Armie straddling his stomach as he tickled him. 

“I’m too hung over for this,” he wailed. It’s what made Armie stop, still smiling, mouth slightly open because he was breathing hard. He held both of Timmy’s wrists above his head against the couch. Timmy was spread out for Armie, under his thighs, unable to move as the man’s eyes flitted over his chest and started to lean towards him. 

His heart sped up.

Armie didn’t break break eye contact as he bent down so slowly, getting closer and closer to Timmy’s lips. Timmy tried not to squirm, their only sounds coming from their short breaths, because he could picture how he looked under Armie, lips parted, chest going up and down, eyes wide. 

It felt like the air was tangible, like Timmy could drag his chin through it as Armie closed the space between them. Armie stopped, craned is neck forward, looked down at Timmy’s mouth for a moment and smiled before surging towards the crook of his neck, smothering his face there repeatedly. Timmy yelped, the 24-hour-old stubble rough on his soft skin. Armie was laughing as Timmy failed at shooing him away, his hands still trapped above him. 

“No one dares challenge _me_ ” Armie boomed, his smile was brilliant and lively. 

“You’re two times my size!” 

“I don’t know what that has to do with it.” Armie dismissed, pulling himself up and letting go of Timmy’s hands. 

“I’m dizzy.” Timmy whined. 

Armie hummed sympathetically, pulled Timmy up and dragged him towards the kitchen.

“Come on dizzy, I’ll make you breakfast.”

“This is _my_ house.”

—

Timmy wouldn’t say he _exaggerated_ the cloudy head and limp muscles that last night’s wine gave him, but if Armie wanted to stay and look after him he wasn’t going to discourage it. 

They didn’t have work today, so there wasn’t much to do but lay around, bicker, watch TV, make Armie play with his hair. Armie was good at playing with his hair. He pressed his whole palm on Timmy’s forehead and dragged his curls back slowly, not stopping when he got immersed in the movie or what ever he was talking about. 

Timmy was laying across his lap, his eyes remaining closed for most of it, reveling in the sensation of Armie petting him so softly. He kept thinking about how nice it was to wake up in his arms. 

He wanted so much when it came to Armie. The man made him so greedy for touch, for closeness. He wanted Armie to control him, dictate everything he did as he lay limp and wanton in his arms, and those thoughts scared him. It was too much to ask for. He was already asking for too much, clinging to Armie the way he did. 

He could picture it though, waking up to Armie every morning. Armie's warm smile as he looked down at him, dragging his fingers up Timmy's back or pulling him in for a kiss, sliding their tongues together just to make Timmy mad, because they hadn't brushed their teeth yet. Timmy would push him away, laughing, pretend to wipe him off his tongue in fake disgust, until Armie held him down, and showed him who did the pushing around here.

They could have breakfast like they did today, Armie stealing toast off his plate even though _he made the toast_ , and _if he wanted more, he could have just continued to raid Timmy's cabinets further, without permission, like he had in the first place._

_your's taste better,_ he would shrug. And Timmy would raise his eyebrows at the innuendo, lick his teeth until Armie bounded over and scooped him up, sat him on the kitchen island and licked up his Adam's apple until his laughs turned to moans. 

Or they would wake up and Timmy would need him in a different way, need to be held and made to feel small and protected. He would plant his face in Armie's neck and breathe him in, feel the words coming out of the man's throat on his cheeks.

 _Cuddly today_ Armie would laugh, hands going up and down his body or wrapping around his waist. Those days, he would want to be carried _everywhere_ , legs wrapped around Armie's hips, or just constantly touched, one knee thrown over the man's lap as he rubbed himself off on his thigh. He'd show Armie how desperate he was for him, come in his clothes so he'd remember even after the high subsided. It broke his heart, how easy it was to imagine.

“What are you thinking about?”

Timmy looked up at Armie, voice thick with concern, hand resting at the top of his head, and couldn’t think of an answer. He was so good to him, and he didn't even know it. 

“Nothing” his voice shook, betraying him completely.

“Hey,” Armie’s voice got softer. How could he be any softer?

He felt like a burden. He felt stupid for liking what he did, and of course it decided to break him in front of the person he didn’t want to tell.

His throat closed up. What was he even supposed to say? 

“What’s wrong?” Armie held his arms out and Timmy conceded, pushing himself up to rest his head on Armie’s shoulder. Armie pulled him in by the back of his thigh, made it so Timmy’s knees were on either side of his hips, and Timmy just collapsed onto him. He didn't know if he could do this anymore. He wanted too much.

"We're having a good day, huh?" Armie asked. He nodded into his collarbone.

"Then what is it baby, tell me." _fuck_ , maybe it was that easy. He took a deep breath.

“I like this,” He said, his face in Armie’s neck. Armie was rubbing his back and didn’t stop as he started to laugh.

“What?”

Timmy detached himself and sat back on Armie’s thighs. He kept his head down, fingers playing with the hem of the man’s shirt. His insides felt shriveled up.

“I like when you take care of me,” He sighed, his eyes scrunched shut for a second. “I want… more.”

When he glanced up Armie’s expression was unreadable. His eyes were searching Timmy’s face for something, eyebrows slightly furrowed, and he brought his hand up to Timmy’s jaw before stroking his cheek softly.

“Thank fuck.” He rushed forward to bring their lips together.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> my love letter to Timothée Chalamet

Armie knew he liked Timmy. It wasn’t a question or a concern, it was a fact. He knew since the first time he saw the boy's messy curls in front of the piano when he announced his arrival loudly in the doorway. Timmy’s shoulders had jerked so endearingly, and he turned towards him with a timidity that made Armie want to wrap him up in his arms and tell him everything was going to be okay. He ended up only doing the former. 

“It’s nice to meet you dude, Luca has been raving about you for what seems like my whole life.” 

When Timmy laughed, his whole body tipped back, his eyes crinkled, all of his teeth showed, and Armie was taken aback. How could such a big emotion fit on this small, angular face?

“Yeah, yeah same actually, but I bet it was easier for me to find you through your work than for you to find any of mine.” incredibly vibrant to sheepish and cuddly in a matter of two seconds.

Armie waved the words away immediately. “That’s just because my name sounds like a baking soda.”

Timmy’s eyebrows furrowed, eyes flitting towards the ground as he thought about that. “Is that you?” His eyes got wide and his mouth was slightly open. Armie watched the boy’s face go through what looked like 5 different emotions before that small response.

Armie shook his head and smiled. “Nahhh, that’s my grandfather. Fun fact though.”

He left when Timmy started stuttering apologies, “I have to finish this lesson, but can I meet up with you later?” He placed a hand on Timmy's shoulder to pacify his nervous chatter. 

“No worries, I’ll take a walk around.” 

It was definitely a memorable impression. 

The more time he spent with Timmy, the easier liking him became. The kid was _funny_ , he kept up with Armie’s playful teasing and dished it right back to him, no pause or hesitancy. When it came to filming, what he didn’t have in experience he made up for in talent, in the way he could convey heaps of emotions with one drum of his fingers, with one turn of his head. 

“Liz, he’s adorable,” he gushed into the phone, never one to hide current infatuations. “I just want to keep him in my pocket and not let any one hurt him.”

“It doesn’t sound like it’s just that” She laughed. He could hear her eyes rolling.

“...This is insane.”

“It’s not,” Her voice sounded soft.

“I love you so fucking much.”

“I _know_ ” 

Their mediocre grasp of Italian meant they were each other’s only social interaction. They got close in the abnormal setting, were almost forced to, so they could get through their day without collapsing from the intensity of shooting. Their motions became easy around each other, rehearsals doing them good in two senses, and Armie was happy that he didn’t have to share him with other co stars. 

He could see it in the boy already: rising stardom, eternal heart throb status, they would crush him in one second. This lively, beautiful, innocent wonder that popped out of no where and blew everyone away. It became Armie’s mission not to let Hollywood break his spirit, to keep him grounded and normal and fun. His feelings for him didn’t have to matter as long as Timmy was happy, and grew to be as confident as he should be, with the ability he had.

At first it was little things. Timmy was _always_ putting himself down. It was humility to an extent, he was young, and didn’t have many movies under his belt, but he got the lead of this movie, and he should know how to act like it.

“Its – there’s at least three times that I see too much of myself in this shot.” Timmy’s hand was scrubbing at his face, and he looked so crumpled when he was frustrated.

They were watching back the takes with Luca, something they got the privilege of doing because Luca was fucking awesome, and wanted this movie to be as perfect and accurate as they did. 

“What’s wrong with that?” Armie frowned. 

“It’s not right,” Timmy’s arm was reached out to the screen, his shoulders up by his ears. “I’m not right, Elio isn’t the awkward mess that I am.”

“You’re mistaken, Timothée, this Elio you’ve made, he’s everything.” Luca pressed, his hand lifting in the air in emphasis. 

“You know what you’re doing, Tim.” He didn’t know what tone of voice would convince him of this. He lifted the boy’s chin to turn him from where he was still staring at the paused screen pensively. Timmy looked up at him through his eyelashes, let his head get tipped back, but was still pouting. 

“You know what you’re doing.” He repeated. “I trust you.” 

It made no sense, how much Timmy valued his approval. He’d been in a couple films, but he was by no means a seasoned actor. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the craft enough to see himself as experienced. He could see it on Timmy’s face though, the way he looked at him like he was this wise veteran who knew what he was doing, the way he was so eager to learn. It was easy to give him this, nonetheless; he could be that for him. Armie was realizing more and more that he would give him anything that he needed. 

Timmy nodded at him, and Armie took a deep breath so he could mirror his motions. He watched Timmy’s chest go up and down, stroked the tip of his ear with his thumb before he remembered himself. 

“Stop doubting yourself, you’re fucking awesome.” A pat on the shoulder was safer.

Then, there were the bigger things. The kissing. The _kissing._

Kissing Timmy was… overwhelming. It brought him so close to his _face_ , which was like, yeah, duh, but now Armie didn’t have to stop himself from cupping his cheek, grabbing his hair, licking into that fucking mouth. It was something that made him incredibly happy and also incredibly irritated. Which was irrational.

Their first kiss was fine, easy, awaited. Timmy’s mouth moved just like the rest of his body, willing and enthusiastic and sincere. It wasn’t hard to tell that they both liked it by the looks of them afterwards, their hair a mess, their chests heaving, their bodies still entangled like an after thought. 

The intimacy Timmy offered right off the bat was intense. It felt so private, the way he pushed himself on top of Armie and took without asking. Armie was almost glad not to see Luca standing above them when they separated. He got ripped apart that first time, and was never great at letting people see him in pieces. 

“Ice,” Timmy made an explosion out of his fingers, booming sound effect popping off his lips.

Armie smiled. Timmy brought him out of his own head sometimes.

It was the filmed kisses he couldn’t handle, though. There were too many people seeing his Timmy so vulnerable and pliant. He wanted to shield him from it, allow him to be this with out anyone that wanted to scrutinize or perfect. He constantly asked if the boy was comfortable, made a show of checking for rocks in the grass beneath him to make him laugh.

“Did you know that a barnacle’s dick is twenty times the length of it’s body” Armie murmured as they lay there, his hand not even off Timmy’s neck from the previous take. Timmy tipped his head back in delight, held onto his wrist to keep him close.

“Why the fuck do you know that?” 

“I am a vast chasm of knowledge.” He boasted.

If anything, it gave _him_ some sense of security when he could keep Timmy from getting wrapped up in his own thoughts during these kinds of scenes. He kept asking Timmy if he was okay because of how the boy preened over his touch each time.

Armie wasn’t oblivious. He’d been able to read Timmy’s thoughts since the first time they met, so the way Timmy reacted to Armie’s soft words or embrace did not go past him. There was no reason to bring it up. Timmy liked when Armie was kind and Armie liked being kind to him. It didn’t have to be more complicated than that. It didn’t have to be more than that. He would take what he could get.

The way Timmy’s eyes glazed over when he dropped him in his lap that first time, his swollen ankle matching his pink cheeks, Armie couldn’t stop himself from Overdoing It, rubbing up his leg and wanting to tuck him away from the crowd of people immediately. He got worried, definitely, when after the car ride home Timmy wouldn’t look him in the eye, locked himself in his room for the rest of the night, but immediately realized it was apprehension the next morning. How could this boy not know by now that Armie would give him the world?

He didn’t know if what Timmy liked was just the feeling of being cared for, or if it was him specifically, so he didn't think about it; he just gave and gave and got paid in open mouthed laughs and bashful cuddles, and reveled in the way he felt needed. Timmy was not hard to fawn over. 

It did get harder sometimes, seeing as _he_ was harder sometimes. It couldn’t be intentional, Timmy didn’t even think of himself _as_ sexy, had said as much to him once, and Armie had to restrain himself from being ridiculously defensive. 

“I don’t even know how to pull off this whole ‘sensual’ thing, man.” Timmy had said as he shook his head. They must have been reading lines, for him to have brought it up.

“I’m not following.”

“Look at me! I’m just some lanky kid, how am I supposed to look desirable?”

 _How about your fucking lips?_ He wanted to say. _How about the way you practically give up all your power any time I touch your jaw, or the way your eyelashes drape over your cheekbones when you look up at me, or how delicate your waist feels when I have my arms around you?_

He had a lot of answers to that question. All he said was, “You’re the hottest dude I’ve ever kissed. And I am including DiCaprio.” He would not stand for any doubt on that fact. 

When he was honest with himself, the thought of Timmy spread out on a bed, t-shirt mussed and bunched by his armpits, hips arching in the air and hickies down his neck, down his _thighs_ …was not a rare one. 

But it was more than that. He loved the feeling of Timmy’s head resting on his chest, or his hair as he combed his fingers through it. He could get off to the memory of Timmy nuzzling his face into his neck alone. In short, he was fucked either way.

That fact never once made him question his actions, or discourage him from being there for Timmy. He was all in, had accepted that since the moment he pressed his lips to the boy’s foot in that cramped hallway, the moment he saw his face light up as he turned around from the piano, the moment he leaned back in his chair and sung the _spiderman fucking theme song_. He accepted it several times a day. 

“You don’t make me nervous” Timmy told him, drunk out of his mind, probably lying. 

“You don’t make me nervous either” he laughed, the most honest thing he ever said to anybody, maybe.

Armie was lively all the next day, amped up on the way he got to wake up with Timmy moody on his chest, shy hearing why he'd stayed, needy because of the pounding in his head. Armie was happy to sit with the boy in his lap and stroke back his curls.

He couldn’t understand why in a second, Timmy’s face had gone wistful, why he turned to hide his frown from Armie’s gaze. He needed to make it better. Every scenario went through his mind as the boy ducked his head and looked for the words. _I could do it_ , he told himself. _If he asked me to leave, I could do it._

“I want…more” 

He didn’t even think. 

He kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him. 

“I can give you more.” He panted minutes later, eyes still glued to Timmy lips. “I’ll give you more.”

Timmy’s eyes were closed, his hand pressing on Armie’s cheek, his forehead resting on Armie’s brow bone. 

“Really?” His voice cracked. How could he sound so bewildered?

“I’d give you anything.” Armie scoffed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for wanting to read this, your encouragement keeps me going, for real. This is far from the end, don't expect an epilogue any time soon.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> please read to the tune of Shots by LMFAO ft. Lil Jon:  
> SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rubs hands together*

It embarrassed Timmy when Armie said it. 

 “What do you want me to do to you?”

They were lying in his bed, mostly bickering and pushing each other around. It was like nothing really had to change when it was finally out in the open, it just made things easier in the sense that Timmy wasn’t falling over himself in panic every time he liked the way Armie touched him, he could just lean into the man’s hand or make the happy noises he’d been holding back.

He couldn’t comprehend it, no matter how much Armie told him. He never imagined he’d be able to have Armie in this way. Armie would hold his hand as they weaved through the buildings in the town square, wouldn’t let go when Timmy tried to part ways at his apartment door. 

“I cannot believe that you think you’re leaving me,” He’d laugh, clutching their hands to his chest like he was wounded, smiling despite his gaping mouth.

“I’m quitting while I’m ahead! You’re gonna get tired of me keeping you.”

“I’ve been yours for a while now,” Armie would say, kissing his knuckles where their fingers were intertwined. 

Armie was leaning on his elbow and looking down at him, which Timmy was coming to learn was his favorite position of theirs, him spread out on his back so Armie could see all of him at once. He squirmed now under his gaze, blushing at how direct Armie’s question was.

“I don’t know,” he hid his face in Armie’s collarbone and laughed hesitantly.

“You fucking know,” Armie smiled accusingly, poking at Timmy’s ribs until he couldn’t help but come out of his hiding place. Timmy squished one side of his face in his hand, but looked Armie in the eyes, hoping the man would just read his mind like he always did.

 “You want me to take care of you, and I want to know _how_ ” Armie said, his fingers coming up to brush against Timmy’s temple. “I’ll do anything you ask me to, I want this so much.”

It helped to hear it, that he wasn’t crazy for wanting to be in this world with Armie, that Armie wanted it too. His eyes were glazing over at the thought of it, how real this was.

“Tell me,” Timmy whispered, his thumbnail between his teeth.

“I’ll kiss you wherever you want,” Armie smiled, looking up at Timmy between kisses to his jaw. It made Timmy’s eyes flutter.

“I’ll touch you,” he pushed his hand under Timmy’s shirt and spread it across his chest. Timmy couldn’t do anything but nod and arch and gasp.

“Carry me?” Timmy questioned. His eyes were no doubt wide, his pupils probably dark and blown as he pleaded up at the man. He was close to being turned on enough that it surpassed his shyness.

Armie nodded, grinned, happy to get a request, and continued dragging his hand up and down Timmy’s stomach.

“I’ll sit you on my lap so the whole _world_ knows you’re mine.” He said, eyes flitting over him hungrily. “I wanna make you feel so good; _god,_ Timmy,”

Timmy grabbed a handful of Armie’s shirt, pushed his face into his chest and started mouthing at his skin. It was all he could do to say yes, please, and get closer to the man who was saying all the right things.

 “What else,” He could hear Armie’s voice getting breathier above him.

Timmy reached for the hand now rubbing his hip bone so he could show him. He brought two of Armie’s fingers up to his mouth and swallowed them down greedily. He liked the feeling of his mouth being full, and slid his tongue between the fingers as Armie stared at him, his mouth going slack.

 “Good boy,” he breathed.

The words made Timmy’s eyes go wide. He needed to be good for Armie, to make it as good as he was making it for him. He licked his tongue up and suckled on his fingertips, wanting to give the man a show. He closed his eyes and moaned softly, taken up by Armie’s praise. It gave him confidence, he wanted to hear it again, so he pulled off of Armie’s fingers, leaving them shiny and wet, and told him what he wanted to know.

 “I got hard when you ordered for me,” he was panting as he said it.

 “Oh yeah?” Armie was drawing a slick line down below his navel and he canted up into it mindlessly.

 “That waiter... he knew that I - that you tell me what to have.”

 “You want me to tell you what to do?”

 Timmy nodded with wide eyes.

 “You want everyone to know you belong to me?” Armie’s hand slipped under his boxers and Timmy had to hide his face in his elbow.

 “Look at me,”

 His head immediately snapped up, eager to do what ever Armie wanted. Armie watched him in awe. 

“Fuck, you like it so much.” He whispered, kissed Timmy’s warm cheek and continued toward his neck.

His hand had been creeping down Timmy's underwear, guided by the line of skin where his thigh and groin met, and finally settled to squeeze around the base of his dick. It made Timmy push his head further into the bed, baring his neck, and whimper in short breaths. 

Armie began stroking him slowly, carefully, so Timmy tried to slide up and down the sheets to gain more friction. His eyes were wide and insistent. Armie looked at him expectantly, taunting him with his gentle touch when all Timmy wanted was rough, tight, fast. 

“So pretty when you’re desperate, baby.” Armie cooed. “I bet you look so good when you come.”

“Let me, let me please,” He gasped. “I’ll show you, I’ll be good,” He was babbling now, and would be embarrassed by how shameless Armie made him later.

“I know you’re good, you’re doing so good, Timmy. I wish you could see yourself.” Armie gave him the pressure he needed, and Timmy rutted up into his hand in time with his strokes. He came with a reckless moan, spilling onto his clothes and Armie’s hand. His whole body felt like it was pulsing and raw. 

Armie was kissing him, on his temple and under his ear, then his mouth, and it was languid and heated for a minute before Timmy pulled them apart. He rested his forehead on Armie’s chest as he focused on rucking up the man’s t-shirt, starved to see under the tent in Armie’s shorts. He pulled them down enough that Armie’s cock was freed and he could wrap his fingers around it, appreciate the feeling of it in his hand.

“Holy – Tim, you don’t –” He wasn’t listening, just scooted down so he could lick one long stripe all the way up Armie’s flexed torso while he moved his hand up and down his cock eagerly. He tongued at Armie’s nipple, running his nose through the hair sticking to the man’s chest. He felt Armie pushing his body up to where Timmy was devouring his skin. Armie’s hands were suddenly grabbing onto his hair, pulling him up instead of pushing him down where he wanted to be, where he was aiming for as he kissed down Armie’s side. He only realized why when he felt hot come shoot onto the bottom of his chin, the side of his cheek, below his ear. 

“God, I’m so – you caught me off – I can’t talk to you when my comes all over your face,” Armie looked pained from where Timmy was gazing up at him, placed a thumb on his cheek, but he didn’t seem to be trying to wipe it off, just dragging his finger through his work. Timmy watched Armie’s face, jerking his head toward his touch, and latched on to the digit, sucking it clean. His reaction did not disappoint.

“Up here. Now.” Timmy leapt to oblige. 

Armie grabbed him by the back of his neck and immediately attached his mouth to his throat, sucked _hard_ as he held Timmy to his body. Timmy gasped, rubbed his cheek against the top of Armie’s head and arched into the action. Armie ran his hands over the large red mark he made on Timmy’s skin.

“You’re a fucking menace.” Armie breathed, his voice lilting at the end in genuine amazement. “Like, I might start crying.” 

Timmy hid his blush under Armie’s chin, but was smiling as he cuddled closer and floated his fingers up and down Armie’s stomach. 

“Did I get marked for being good?” He asked distractedly. 

“You got marked because I’m fucking weak.”

“If I’m good again, will you put your dick in my mouth?” How smug he’d become in a matter of one afternoon. 

“You can’t just say shit like that,” Armie said through gritted teeth as he pushed him onto his back, Timmy laughed and batted away any attempts of revenge.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _the scene_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments! Thank you for reading this!

They both walked out of different doors into the same room, their room, _the_ room. Timmy wished they could have just come right out with it, dawned in nothing but a smile instead of these arbitrary robes, hanging on them in suspense. The bed was artfully, almost threateningly messed, only half the crew dawdling in the corners and near the dresser. 

Not having to be on set that day until dark was a change of pace, as were his new Armie-filled mornings. 

“Do we have to?” Armie had said as Timmy shook him awake, keeping a firm hold around Timmy’s waist with no attempt at opening his eyes. It had easily persuaded him, because no, they really didn’t, so he scooted back down and Armie hummed, readjusting himself to smash his cheek at the bottom of Timmy’s collarbone. 

When they finally had woken up, far past noon, Armie moved with him. He held Timmy to his hip as they brushed their teeth, sidled up behind him as he roamed through the kitchen cabinets. Timmy liked it, didn’t think to question why, just pushed back into his touch to spur him on further. Armie pulled him onto his lap as they lazed on the couch, rubbed his nose behind Timmy’s jaw, and Timmy made happy noises, always in the mood to be held.

“You’re being nice to me today,” Timmy smiled, having been turned around on Armie’s thighs so the man could suck on the dip of his collarbone. 

“I’m always nice,” Armie scoffed, his face still buried under his chin. Timmy mindlessly tipped his head back further.

“Is this what you look like when you’re nervous?” he wondered aloud. It made Armie stop, groan, rest his forehead on Timmy’s chest. 

“Can’t we just, like, wing it.” 

Timmy could hear his grimace. “What do you mean?” He laughed. 

“I don’t want to talk about it til I have to, I just want you right now.” It was almost a whine, and he emphasized the words by tonguing at the crook of his neck. It was hard to argue when Armie’s mouth felt like that.

Maybe it was because they were immediately separated when they got to set, or the fact that Timmy had to pull off his clothes in a silent room, but he started to get overwhelmed. It felt like it was all dawning on him at the same time, the gravity of the scene, how inexperienced he was at this. He thought of mothers he’d seen on TV. _It’s so loud, I can’t even hear myself think_. He wished. 

Now he was standing here, and Armie over there, and no one was really moving. 

“Ah, yes, boys, we will block in just a moment, go play for a bit.” Luca shooed at them as always; a small comfort. His other hand was still waving in the direction of the dim light and he immediately went back to hashing out the technicalities with their camera guy in quiet mumbles. Armie gave a half hearted salute - Luca wasn’t even paying attention to him by that point - and slid to sit on the edge of the bed. He jerked his head as an invitation for Timmy to follow.

“You look good in that robe,” Armie said weakly, like he was trying to come up with a silver lining to the discomfort Timmy hadn’t even voiced yet. 

“This is so weird.”

Timmy plopped down, his arm crossing under where Armie’s leaned on the mattress, and it was so blunt that Armie was just short of snorting in response. It prompted Timmy into a fit of laughter, more because he was proud he’d made Armie smile. 

“This is so _fucking weird,_ ,” Armie groaned, his forehead coming down on Timmy’s shoulder. When they sobered, he placed a hand on Timmy’s hip, raised his head up to Timmy’s ear.

“ _I’ve_ never even seen you naked,” he whispered, Timmy could hear the exasperation in his voice. “And now there’ll be all these - there’re so many - I don’t know.” he huffed. 

It only took a moment for Timmy to move past the heady admission, more concerned about what Armie meant.

He never thought of it that way, but it was true. There had only been rucked up shirts, hands on ribs, hands _down_ pants, no time to push them any further. This was a first, despite it being out of order. His own hesitancies were starting to make sense to him.

They were going to be vulnerable, intimate, _naked_ , entwined. Of course Armie wanted that to be exclusively theirs. But for Armie to think this would take away from what they had was insane.

“I’m still yours,” his eyebrows furrowed, bemused and insistent. 

“I know that, probably,” Armie sighed, hand going up to scrub his face as he nodded. 

“I can remind you?” Timmy offered with a shrug. Armie huffed out a laugh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“That’d be good, thank you,” he said sweetly, his thumb brushing the top of Timmy’s cheek.

“Yes, that’s perfect, do that but lying down.” Luca cheered. They all laughed. It was time, then.

Timmy fumbled with the loose tie and let the robe fall on the bed. God, what he wouldn’t have done for pockets right then. He somewhat registered his cock resting on his thigh, certainly felt the change of the cool air on his bare skin, but his mind went blank, as if shielding him from the reality that everyone was here to watch him look like he just got fucked.

But then Armie was there, moving swiftly, determinedly, balling up their robes in one hand to throw across the room, pulling Timmy up by the waist to the pillows and holding him so they were towards each other and no one else. 

“Gotcha,” he exhaled, hand on Timmy’s back, and Timmy knew he did.

Their skin was dry and smooth as they slid together _(down to Timothée’s shoulder Armie, hand up higher Timothée)_ until it wasn’t, the heat of their legs, of their _hips_ , making it stick and drag. It intoxicated him, like even their bodies knew to put up a fight before letting them break contact.

When Luca suggested Timmy lay on his back, Armie was quick to slot his knee between Timmy’s thighs, and Timmy didn’t know whether to bless him or damn him to hell. 

It felt like hours, the camera panning up and down the expanse of their naked embrace, Armie (Oliver) squirming comfortably; sated. Timmy craned his neck to mouth at the top of his cheek, warmed his tanned bicep with his palm. Whenever Luca called cut, they wouldn’t move, partly self preservation, partly self indulgence. Timmy had been half hard for who knows how long, couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“Tell me you’re okay,” Armie said while the whole world flitted around them.

“I’m so happy.” Was all he could reply.

There was no reason not to be. He was safe; snug under Armie’s weight, everything else seeming far away. Armie’s hand curled around his ear, petted him, and Timmy pushed into the touch. 

“I didn’t want you here,” Armie sighed. “It just seemed like so much… too much for you to do.”

“Nah. You've got me.” Timmy said casually, his eyes closing in content. He felt Armie shake his head and laugh, hold on even tighter.

“You’re not wrong,” he said, relaxing onto Timmy’s shoulder. 

When they wrapped, Luca thanked them whole heartedly. 

“My Oliver, my Elio,” He cooed. Everything he said always felt like a warm caress to Timmy’s cheek. 

They all made themselves scarce, the polite thing to do even though no one was phased by then. Armie started to move when the doors shut, and Timmy’s first reflex was to hold him there, reluctant to remember what it felt like when Armie wasn’t on top of him. 

“It’s okay,” Armie chuckled, kissing the side of his neck. “I’m gonna get our clothes.”

He was lying there openly now, stretched out for no one to see. Armie came back in with their things in his hands, stopping at the edge of the bed to stand over him. Timmy watched Armie watch him. He reached out to trail his fingers down Timmy’s side, going past his hip bone and onto his thigh. It made him shiver. 

“What do you want?” Armie whispered.

“I don’t know,” Timmy sighed. “You.” 

Wasn’t that always the answer?

Armie smiled, “Piece a’ cake,” and leaned over to kiss him on the mouth. Timmy locked one arm around his neck and went to town. He wouldn’t have minded another few hours in that bed.

“It’s late,” Armie whispered after a while, his breaths short and quick. Timmy was trying to bring their bodies together, despite Armie not even being on the bed. “Let me take you home.”

“Touch me, first,” Timmy pouted, pulling at the elbow still harboring their balled up shirts. He’d gone all night with the promise of it, had to lie with Armie’s cock nestled on his hip, his own cock being pressed down by the man’s large thigh. 

“They’ll _know_ ,” Armie laughed incredulously, but he was already dropping their clothes to the side, situating himself so he was holding his weight over Timmy’s body. Timmy immediately went to grab his hips, arching up to rut against Armie’s stomach. Armie moaned, pushed his nose into Timmy’s neck and let him take what he needed for a while, before reaching between them and holding their cocks in one hand.

"Thank you," Timmy gasped, the words long overdue.

When Armie was cleaning him up, placing kisses on every inch of skin he passed, Timmy noticed he was wiping their come off of his thighs with one of their forgotten robes. He was glad to see it finally be of use.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was what I wrote for the 7th chapter on my outline:
> 
> Armie does the thing like monet’s berm but more On Edge
> 
> blame my past self on why this came out so late????? she's so unhelpful????????


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> is there such thing as fluff without plot?

“I’m going to take it away if you don’t stop.” Armie breathed into his ear, playful, but enough bite in his voice for Timmy to get the objective. 

It was arbitrary; he was fiddling with a DVD case Luca’d handed him when they sat down, watching it flip around his fingers as Luca pointed towards the screen that projected the day’s takes. The rational part of him knew Armie said shit like that for the hell of it, always trying to get him riled up, and still he froze mid twirl, sunk into the back of his chair like he got pulled by some external force. Armie looked so delighted that Timmy didn’t even have it in him to feel ashamed of the reaction. He loved seeing him pleased. 

“This is perfect,” Luca pointed out before resting his finger pensively on his lips. They had shot the scene with more words at first, the two of them lying on sunny sheets, Oliver’s hand ghosting on Timmy’s chest. It didn’t feel right, so Timmy tried it without them, just moved away from Armie’s touch, put a wall up between them with his back. He could see it looked more natural, the quiet contemplation rather than any blatant monologues. 

Timmy looked to Armie curiously. He smiled and nodded yes to the question Timmy didn’t ask, _he’s right_ , rubbed at his knee encouragingly and looked back to the screen. The heavy weight where Armie’s hand still sat engulfing the top half of his thigh left a buzz in his brain, and when Armie started to move his thumb back and forth on the corner of his knee cap, Timmy leaned forward, forcing himself to become immersed in what was in front of him rather than down below. 

“That was it, Armie, your look right here –” Armie easily responded to his praise, albeit with his knuckle grazing his lips in slight embarrassment, but he was being attentive. He wasn’t going through steps to contort his face into a brooding stare like Timmy was trying so hard to do. Nonchalance was always difficult for him.

—

“I knew you liked me,” Armie had smiled when he’d asked, and it just made him groan, push his head back into the arm of the couch before Armie placated him with a grip on his ankle. “Nothing bad! I just knew what you wanted me to do, so I did it…sometimes.” 

“Like what,” he said, defeated, thumb and pointer squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Like…Sirmione.”

“ _Sirmione_ ” It was practically a shriek.

It had been so fresh, in Sirmione, was the thing. Virtually 72 hours before, he had fallen on the pavement, made a fool of himself in the cab, touched himself to the thought of Armie’s strong hands on his legs. He had been reeling, obviously, yet he could do nothing but walk out the door, the Crema sun dreamily mild on his skin, and engage in more of the same fucking thing. He never got to be away from Armie, never _wanted_ to be away from Armie, and it had resulted in a dizzying façade, which he was now finding out had never been convincing in the first place. 

They drove out together, packed in a Fiat that neither of them could fit in, Armie’s knee spread to hit the top of Timmy’s thigh. 

“Crema’s a fuckin’ masterpiece,” Armie whistled, looking out the window on Timmy’s side of the car. He was right, and at the speed they were going it left something to be desired. Timmy wanted nothing more than to reach out and grab it, keep it in his pocket, so he slid his window down and tried. 

“What are you doing?” Armie laughed, pulling Timmy’s shoulder back, and then his wrist, as he stuck his hand out to feel the wind in his fingers. 

“Haven’t you ever just wanted to take something so beautiful, but know you can’t? Like, just fucking grab it?” Timmy turned his profile to him frustratedly, a little dazed because Armie’s fingers were still touching him. Armie met his eyes and paused.

“Yeah.” Was all he said, before reaching across Timmy’s body and sticking his own hand out the window, his other hand gripped on Timmy’s leg for support. Timmy laughed into his shoulder. He pushed him off after what he counted was the socially acceptable amount of seconds he could let Armie hover over his lap. He watched Armie’s hand recede back from his thigh and thought about what it would look like pushing up his shirt. His laughs quickly changed to meek.

Armie scooted towards him curiously. “You okay? You look tired.”

Timmy gave his head a mental shake and played it off, leaning his elbow on the door and fingering the curls by his temple as he nodded. 

“Yeah, that must be it.”

“Come,” Armie pulled his arm until he was sitting upright again. “You can sleep on me if you want.”

“Okay,” Timmy choked out.

He leaned both of his hands on the seat and crawled forward, touching his head to Armie’s shoulder cautiously, and Armie wrapped a hand around him to get him closer. He relaxed into the touch and gave the smallest of rubs to Armie’s clothed bicep with his cheekbone. His arm was fully pressed into Armie’s side, his fingers rested on the top of Armie’s leg, and he stayed awake the whole ride there.

The set had towering pillars and hot white sand. The ocean breeze wafted towards them as they looked around giddily, raising their eyebrows and running towards the water. As they looked out on it’s expanse, Armie eye’s caught on the statue lying on a flat board at their feet. He crouched, wielded the curved arm delicately, fingers ghosting over the sharp jut of the elbow. Timmy didn’t know he could envy an object to this degree. 

He turned towards Timmy, a sly smile on his face, and reached out to caress the inner curve of his neck with a hand that wasn’t his. Timmy tilted his head with a smile, squinted like the light was in his eyes (rather than in his chest, beaming, telling him this was the end of the tunnel, that there was no where but up from here) before laughing loudly when the hand poked down towards his ribs. 

He grasped it in his palm, and the fingers were not Armie’s, but they were. They looked at each other for a second and Timmy thought maybe they were squinting for the same reason. 

“That is fantastic,” Luca laughed, coming down the stairs. They peered down at their hands and back up at their director. “Do that, do that! But say ‘ _tregua_ ’” Timmy formed the word in his mouth to commit it to memory, watched the statue get pulled out of his hand instead of letting it go. 

They had to drag their feet in shallow water as they walked towards the boat. Timmy was already five-seconds-from-falling-down when he didn’t have to trek through viscous bodies, so he watched his feet and tried not to get his shirt wet in the surf. Armie came up behind him when he reached it, floating a couple of steps from shore, and jumped in with a thud, barely managing to stay on his feet. He laughed at himself, sat at the boats rear before reaching two hands out to aid Timmy in getting up too.

Timmy reached for both hands awkwardly, not understanding how that would help but never one to reject an Armie Offer. Armie scoffed, pulled Timmy’s arms up to hold onto his neck and wrapped around his waist, dragging Timmy in with no shred of grace. Timmy made a startled noise, watched his feet separate from the sand beneath him and clung to Armie for dear life.

“You ass,” He said breathily, the back of his head under Armie’s jaw. His legs were scrambling for purchase in the boat and they steadied, despite Armie’s shaking laughter in his ear. 

“I was trying to help,” Armie said innocently, and Timmy became fully aware that he was crouching between Armie’s legs, that he was grabbing two handfuls of Armie’s blue shirt.

Armie released him but kept his fingers on Timmy’s ribs, plopped Timmy down beside him and held on until the boat stopped rocking again. Timmy stayed close and thought about how Armie could make 2 minutes feel like two days. 

“I can’t believe you let me gawk over you for that long,” Timmy hid his face in the couch cushion. “I’m a chump.” He concluded. Shrugged his shoulders in acceptance. 

“The _cutest_ chump. That I couldn’t keep my hands off of, even though it can now be justified as a very selfless act.” Armie was gathering him up in his arms, and Timmy pouted, though his cheeks were undoubtedly pink from Armie’s words. 

“But yah,” Armie continued, raising a thumb to his cheek, placing a kiss at the top of his forehead. “You can’t hide for shit.”

—

So Timmy was some amount of envious that Armie could sit there with his hand up Timmy’s leg and comprehend Luca’s words enough to laugh at them freely, to come up with words to say in return. If anything, he decided, there was some dignity in consistency, and any other self doubts were easy to appease with a certain hand petting his head. 

He zoned out after the conversation headed towards some philosopher he didn’t recognize the name of. He stared loosely out the window, sucking his lip in and out of his teeth and plastering a curl down behind his ear with one finger. There was a sharp pressure suddenly, a squeeze to his leg, and he looked up with wide eyes. He was met with an odd stare, and Armie stuttered mid sentence.

He furrowed his eyebrows questioningly, his tongue darting out to the corner of his mouth, and Armie followed it sternly before jerking his head, giving his attention back to Luca with a fruitful nod. _Oh._

Theoretically, Timmy knew he was attractive. His jaw was angular, his nose was thin, his eyes were a unique shade of hazel. His frame was slight and he didn’t mind it; feeling it matched his wiry personality more often than not.

He recognized the privilege in this, the reality that he didn’t stare very critically when he looked in the mirror, never ruminated over a lengthy photo shoot. 

It was partly because he assumed it was a moot point, though. He was clumsy, and ridiculous, and grew up around lively theater geeks and a teasing older sister who taught him everything he knew. He never walked the walk, just _looked_ like he could, and people found that out pretty quickly after meeting him. 

Armie never seemed to be flustered around him, and he chalked it up to the fact that Armie saw right through him, always saw right through him in the most comforting way. It wasn’t that he was taken aback now, it was more of a _would you look at that_ , and a mental note to save for later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha remember when I said this would come out faster and it actually came out a day later? good times. thanks for still tolerating me though, I mean it.
> 
> Oh I also just made a tumblr, and I'm having a _blast_. go see all 13 posts i have [here](http://nellipot.tumblr.com)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> happy hump day

Armie hadn’t noticed it at first.

“Tim? Timmy. Timothée Chalamet.”

“Oh, what?” Timmy finally turned his head from the conversation across the table he was listening in on, grin still fading and eyes wide as he looked up at him. Armie raised his eyebrows. 

“I asked if you wanted me to top you off.” He gestured to the bottle half-horizontal in his fingers as if it were obvious. Timmy shrugged, _okay_ , before his attention went back on the others. Armie watched him tip his head back and laugh, swirling his finger in the last of the sauce on his plate before taking it to his mouth, his teeth scraping the pad long after he’d licked it clean. 

_God_ , Timmy’s fucking mouth. It was always so pink and wet, constantly licked and bitten throughout the day at an agonizing pace. His tongue would dart out mid-sentence to swipe at the corner of his mouth, just to remind Armie that it was there, and that he was too far away from it. It felt like miles, especially with Timmy’s head not turned towards him. 

He was staring and couldn’t get himself to stop. He’d been better at keeping it to himself before, especially in _public_ , at least contributing to conversations instead of sulking in his seat. But now he had _memories_ , he didn’t have to imagine what Timmy would look like underneath him.

He watched Timmy stretch, bunching his arms over his head and arching his back so Armie could see the smooth skin of his tummy protruding from his t-shirt, and Armie thought about how he had been licking that spot only hours before. 

“We have to go!” Timmy laughed as Armie pulled him by the waist back onto the bed. “Luca said dinner would be out by seven.” He still nuzzled back into Armie’s embrace, chin down with that small smile Armie would fucking die for. Armie arranged him to sit between the V of his thighs and put two hands around his tummy, smelling Timmy’s neck because he’d showered with his soap. 

“We could go in 2 hours and they’d _still_ be having fucking dinner.” Fucking Italians. “Come _on_ ,” He rushed his hands down Timmy’s thighs as he said it, hands going to fist the bottom edge of his shorts, and Timmy’s head fell back on his shoulder with a soft sound. Armie smiled. He had him.

He set Timmy down on the pillows and kissed him long and languid, one elbow supporting himself on the bed and the other hand gripping Timmy’s hip. He felt Timmy immediately wrapped his arms around his neck, pushing his tongue into his mouth like Armie craved for most seconds of the day. He chased after it, brought his hand up to push Timmy’s hair off his forehead because he knew it would make him arch his hips, he _loved_ that he knew that. 

He reached down to free Timmy’s cock from his shorts and settled his forehead under Timmy’s chin where it smelled so good, and realized he wanted to know where else Timmy smelled like him. There was a small whine at the loss of his hand and then a loud, guttural groan as Armie’s lips enveloped the head of Timmy’s cock, pushing the flat of his tongue up and down ridge. Armie looked up and Timmy’s eyes were squeezed tight, his mouth going slack and that fucking tongue swiping at his bottom lip. 

“Oh my GOD, what are you, what, _oh_ –” Timmy babbled, his neck twisting on the pillows. 

He pushed his shirt up to splay his hands out on Timmy’s stomach, rubbing up and down his sides to calm him down. He looked so pretty, the strain of his throat as he moaned and swallowed, the shaking of his fingers as he searched for something to hold on to. Armie pushed Timmy’s hips down and took him deeper, bobbing his head quickly because he wanted to _see_ it already, wanted to feel it go down his throat. Timmy gave it to him, with a fruitless snap of his hips into Armie’s firm grip and a sharp sob. 

Timmy’s chest was going up and down and Armie finally pulled off, kissing his hip and making Timmy jump when he dragged his teeth across his stomach; his skin still too sensitive to be touched. Armie crawled back up and kissed Timmy’s cheek, pet the side of his head until he opened his eyes. He stared up at Armie through his eyelashes before weakly elbowing him in the chest.

“No fucking fair!” he whined. “I’ve wanted your dick in my mouth since day _one_ ” He was still out of breath and Armie laughed, because Timmy always said shit he would usually never say out loud right after he comes. He hugged his arms around Armie’s waist and sighed into his chest. 

“That felt good.”

“I’m glad.”

“Will you come on me?” 

“Uh, fuck yes.”

Armie looked at Timmy’s chest now, knowing he hadn’t cleaned him up that thoroughly, knowing Timmy smelled like him in a much different way. As if on cue, Timmy ran his hand across that spot. It wasn’t until Armie stopped gawking at his fingers clutching his shirt that he saw the flick of Timmy’s eyes towards him, the lick of his teeth in subtle satisfaction. Timmy was being a fucking brat. 

The itching feeling that had been crawling up his chest finally had a name, the one he didn’t think he was allowed to scratch, because Timmy _wasn’t_ his, he could talk to who ever he wanted. But he was egging Armie on, daring him to question his indifference. The realization was both a balloon in Armie’s chest and a stone in his stomach. 

They were all moving toward the living room for the post-dinner-party party (fucking _Italians_ ), and Armie took Timmy by the hand out the door. They passed the archway that opened up to the garden, and Armie couldn’t see Timmy’s face, but they were walking in step, neither slowing the other down as they approached the wall that held up the side of the house. 

Armie propped Timmy onto the brick, the gravel underneath them rattling as he shuffled to crowd Timmy against it. 

“You did that on purpose,” Armie spat softly, his hand squeezing Timmy’s ass to hold their hips together. He kneaded the muscle there as Timmy pushed his head back into the wall and clutched Armie’s shoulders, sputtering for words. 

“Yeah,” He sighed instead, Armie’s lips behind his ear only allowing for concision. “Wanted you to – take me away.”

“So you licked your fucking lips and ignored me?” Armie groaned, he was an easier lay than he’d thought. 

“I thought if you were mad, you would…” Timmy was running his palm from one side of Armie’s chest to the other, his eyes low and his voice trailing off. For as much as he thought he was in this kid’s head, he had no idea what the ending of that sentence was going to be. He snaked his hand into the back of Timmy’s shorts to spread his fingers on his ass, deciding he needed some encouragement. Timmy groaned and hit Armie’s chest with his fist, his forehead leaning on Armie’s collarbone as he murmured helplessly, “That you would fuck my mouth.” 

It was Armie's turn to sputter. 

He wanted it. _God_ did he fucking want it. He’d thought about Timmy with ropes crossing down his arms, bruises on his neck, his mouth red and dripping. But then he’d think about Timmy with his eyes all sleepy, laughter on his lips, his skin warm from the afternoon. How many ways was this boy going to allow Armie to love him?

He pulled Timmy's face out from under him, pushed his head up to meet his eyes with a thumb on his cheek.

"Is that what you want?" He had to make sure. He _had_ to make sure. Timmy looked up at him and nodded. Nodded one more time for good measure. Armie combed his fingers into the boy’s hair, kissed his forehead, took one step back.

“Get on your knees.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> great plan, tim!
> 
> follow me on [tumblr](http://nellipot.tumblr.com) i'm very annoying


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you know what things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was made possible by @etal who gave me the idea to write smut with my eyes closed. i think it went okay

Timmy just fucking sank. If not for Armie’s quick grip around his bicep, he would have busted his knees on the gravel, but he wouldn’t have cared. His arm would be bruised, Armie had used so much force to keep him from going down too hard, and he would get to see it in the mirror, or get Armie to press into it when they were alone. He was already panting, looking up, thinking about how sore his throat might be soon, just like he wanted it – long before Armie had pushed his hips down so he couldn’t _move_ , long before Armie had let him _come_ in his _mouth._.

It had been the last straw. He didn’t know they could _do_ that, didn’t know Armie _wanted_ to do that, and he immediately needed it to be his turn. He’d asked Armie to _come_ on him he was so out of it, wanted something congruent to what Armie got to have. Armie was happy to do it, pushed Timmy up slightly on the pillows, his strong thighs straddling his stomach. Timmy vibrated underneath him, anticipating every stroke like it could be the one that sent Armie spasming over him. He watched Armie push it into his skin, felt the streaks he left caking on his chest, raised his arms as Armie put his shirt back on with out any words. He was so lucky.

Armie’s eyes were wide above him just for one second, but he closed his mouth and loosened his grip on Timmy’s arm gently, touching his elbow before going to unbutton his shorts. Timmy tried to stay put, only scooted slightly closer so he could hold onto the backs of Armie’s knees. He was gnawing through his lip, breathing hard through his nose, feeling Armie’s own eagerness through his fingers. Then it was there, right in front of him, his tongue reached out to touch the head – 

“Ah ah ah,” Armie shook his head, pulled Timmy back with a hand gripping his curls. Timmy went slack with a gasp, letting his neck become exposed to the night sky. “Be good. I didn’t say.” Armie immediately took his hand off though, put Timmy’s hair back in place as if Timmy didn’t want it bunched up in his fingers. He guided the head of his cock back towards him, and Timmy stayed still, kept his mouth closed even as Armie dragged his cock up and down his chin, across his cheek and on top of his lips, only tipping his head towards it slightly as it went beneath his jaw. 

Armie grabbed Timmy’s face with one hand, his cheeks hollowing slightly as Armie held his head up to meet his eyes. “Baby, stay still.” He whispered firmly. He stroked the corner of Timmy’s mouth with is thumb, pulled down his lower lip and allowed Timmy to bob his head down and suckle on it, both of them moaning as it disappeared into Timmy’s mouth. He dragged the spit slick digit down Timmy’s neck and back to his cock, repeating his movements again at a more agonizing pace. Timmy’s eyes began to flutter shut at the heady sensation until he finally heard Armie’s steady voice.

“Open.”

Timmy’s chest heaved as he held his tongue flat over his bottom lip and craned his neck up. Armie gave him just the tip and Timmy pushed against it gratefully, closing his lips as Armie slowly slid in further. The weight of Armie’s dick satiated him, stretched out his cheeks as it went down and he groaned. The hum of his mouth jerked Armie’s hips forward, making his throat squeeze at the intrusion and he gagged, drooling as Armie pulled out with a horrified expression. He was holding onto the base of his dick as if he had to keep himself from going over the edge right then. 

“Timmy…” He whispered, his voice close to breaking. 

“It’s okay,” Timmy rasped, sucking in air when he heard the sound of his own voice and scrambling for Armie’s hand. He took it and placed it back on the top of his head. He could feel the reluctant awe in Armie’s fingers as he tugged his curls back up into his fist, and Timmy nodded breathily, raising his chin and opening his mouth once more. 

He made sure to open his throat, got his hands back on Armie’s legs and dug his nails into the taut skin. Armie moved Timmy’s head to his cock and pushed him forward carefully; Timmy letting himself get moved back and forth in short motions. He curled his tongue up as Armie began to go faster, sucking in his cheeks. His eyes rolled to the back of his head when one stroke went far enough to constrict his breathing. 

Tears started to form in his eyes and Armie pulled out again, letting Timmy’s spit string down his chin as he gasped for air. Timmy sputtered loudly but squeezed Armie’s legs as a plea for him to keep going. His own cock had been straining since he hit the ground, the only relief coming from his minute thrusts into the fabric of his shorts and the intoxicating rush it gave him to be used this way, to be at Armie’s disposal, to be good for him. 

Armie was whimpering softly, his eyebrows scrunched and his thrusts getting more erratic, so Timmy let go of his thighs and linked his hands behind his back, closing his eyes and letting Armie fuck into his mouth like it was the only thing he was made to do. It got Armie to pull harder on his hair, gasp and beg for Timmy to look at him, and he did, as Armie came down his throat and onto his lips. Timmy’s cheeks were wet with tears and his lips were slick with come and Armie knelt down and kissed them, licking into his mouth and pushing a hand onto the tent in Timmy’s shorts.

“You did so well,” Armie gasped, keeping Timmy upright with a hand around his back. Timmy slumped onto Armie’s shoulder, barely able to thrust up into Armie’s hand but needing to come so badly it didn’t matter. The streaks drying on his face made his skin tight, and he let out a soft breath as Armie rubbed his orgasm out of him, both of them on their knees in the back of their director’s dinner party, collapsed and breathless and clinging to each other’s skin.

Armie pet the nape of his neck, rubbed up and down his back before pulling them both up to stand. Timmy’s legs were sore, he curled his arms into Armie’s body so the man wouldn’t move them so quickly. 

“You made me feel so good Timmy, I can’t even – _god_ , you’re so beautiful.” He heard Armie choke out, feeling a kiss on his temple and a stroke to his hair. 

“Mhmm” He hummed, nuzzling into Armie’s chest. He felt the sound get caught in his raw throat. “It hurts, Armie.” He whispered happily, and it made Armie hold him even tighter. 

“I’ll – I’ll get us home, okay?”

He was laying on Armie in their bed, knees on either side of his hips and fingers playing with the hair on his chest. Armie had two hands on the backs of his thighs, thumbing up and down the bottom of his ass and it was everything, he was so happy, and spoiled, and sore. He fell asleep easily, was breathing too heavily by the time Armie’s chin rubbed up and down the side of his head, to hear the broken apologies whispered in his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmmmmmmkay no one look at me for the next five days thanks


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eye roll emoji, maybe also butterfly emoji

Timmy woke up on Armie’s chest, raking nails down his sides until his eyes opened too. When he sat up and straddled Armie’s stomach, large hands came to rest automatically on his thighs. He bent down and pressed an ear to Armie’s throat, getting his curls caught in overnight stubble. 

“Hi,” He smiled, wearing his scratchy voice like a crown. He rubbed his nose deeper into the crook of Armie’s neck, letting little noises catch and release in the calm morning waters. Armie traced the bumps of his spine toward his neck, two fingers tucked into the back of Timmy’s knee. 

“Want breakfast?” He asked, scratching the base of Timmy’s curls and kissing wherever his lips reached. He’d pulled them both up before Timmy could say, no, actually, he’d wanted to do things far more important than have breakfast, wanted last night to be today. Instead he sat leaning on one hip in an unmade bed, trying to remember how they’d gotten home.

Armie was opening up their cabinets when Timmy finally followed suit, so he squeezed himself between the man’s body and the kitchen counter, his forearms pressed to Armie’s ribs, and used both hands to play tug-of-war with Armie’s shirt, pulling him down for a kiss. 

“ _Hi_ ,” He said again, grin just as wide, being annoying for the sake of being annoying. Armie’s smile was soft as he looked down at him, chest to chest, hands coming to rest on Timmy’s hips. 

“Did we get a cab last night?” He asked, laughing at himself, liking that the question admitted his prior woozy desperation. It did not, however, have the same effect on Armie. 

“What do you mean?” He asked, letting go of him. More than letting go, it was a significant step backwards. Timmy watched Armie’s hands pull back and frowned.

“What are you –” 

“You like, barely touched your wine.” His voice was cutting, matching his hand slicing through the air in front of him.

“What does that have to do with –” Timmy couldn’t get a word in, Armie’s hands were in his hair then rubbing at his eyes. 

“I shouldn’t have – _fuck_ ”

“Dude, what is going _on_?” Timmy stepped forward, reaching towards Armie’s chest but the man kept him an arm’s length away.

“Don’t, Timmy.” Stern and pleading.

“What the fuck, what did I do?” Two seconds ago he had a tummy pressing him into the kitchen counter, and now he was trying to breathe through gut wrenching panic. He felt a familiar burn creeping up into his eyes.

“You can’t _be_ on my side for this, this is fucked, this is…I’m _fucked_ ” 

His words made everything turn and click into place, and when they did, Timmy’s stomach dropped to the floor. He regretted it. 

“Oh.” Every part of him shrunk, his voice caving in with one syllable. “I didn’t mean…” And how was he supposed to finish his sentence? He meant all of it, he thought they both did. So he just shrugged, looking down, lips pursed and scrunched to the side. He knew if he said anything else his throat would catch, sounding as broken as he felt. Tears started blurring his vision of the floor, and he tried to discreetly catch them while scratching his cheek. 

“Of course not,” Armie shook his head, looking pained. “Of course you didn’t; it was me, I made you –” he stopped like he couldn’t keep going, when Timmy looked up he was biting his lip with so much force and smiling grimly, shaking his head. Was this all some sort of plan?

“Made me what?” Timmy looked at him incredulously. “Like you? Need you? Just so you could take it all back when you were done playing?”

“You think this is playing? You think I don’t hate every single cell of myself for taking advantage of you? You were _shivering_ , Timmy, _all night_ , and I couldn’t – and now you –”

“You regret being with me because I get fucking cold?” He was barely picking pieces out of Armie’s words, too bitter and sad, too preoccupied with feeling the loss of Armie, crowded over him, again and again in his head. 

“How could you ever say I regret being with you?”

“You just said it!” A sob broke out and tears started pouring down in frustration. He lifted a palm out towards the man. “You’re fucked, right? So you want to retract all,” He waved his hand around the room, “ _This_? I didn’t know it would be that easy, but I guess it’s good to find out sooner than later!” He scooped a fist in the air sarcastically. 

Armie stared as Timmy calmed down, wiped the tears from his eyes and crossed his arms expectantly. 

“Timmy.” He said softly. “There is no fucking universe where I could come close to regretting being with you.” Timmy squeezed his eyes shut as they began to sting, his face already so puffy and warm. “Do you hear me?” He nodded as he massaged his eyelids with cool hands, looking back up at Armie and biting his lip. 

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Timmy sniffed, rubbing the top of his head and shuffling his feet, feeling tired and useless.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I yelled.” Armie spoke in the tone Timmy was used to, comforting him even though he didn’t make a move to get closer. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Timmy nodded, still looking down, pushing back his hair from his forehead distractedly. 

“The trust you put in me is fucking terrifying Tim, and unwarranted, and so _unconditional_ that I don’t always know if…if it’s you trusting me or if it’s the truth.” Timmy watched him scratch the side of his head. “I don’t know if I’m making sense.” He tried to piece that into context on his own.

“So –”

“So I need you to tell me the actual truth, okay? Not just something to keep me from leaving, because I will not leave, I am not going anywhere.” He liked knowing that. He liked Armie telling him twice.

“Okay,” He agreed. 

“Were you truly comfortable with what happened last night? Were you…were you drunk or, pressured, I know I… I know I hurt you, and I need to know the full extent because I haven’t been able to think straight –”

Timmy wasn’t even listening by the end of it. He could feel their whole conversation sloughing off his skin, molting them. 

“ _God_ , is that all?” Already walking towards him with fervor. Each step felt like a detox, like every aching feeling was seeping out of his pores. This man was so stupid. 

He didn’t stop when he reached Armie, instead he flung his arms around his neck and attempted to shimmy up his body with his knees, until Armie got the hint that Timmy was doing this _with or without him_ and started trying to grab at the backs of his legs. They stayed there, Timmy’s legs wrapped around Armie’s waist and Armie rubbing his back, his temple on Timmy’s nape. 

“I could feel you still inside me, that’s all I meant, when I said I was sore. You didn’t hurt me.” He said when he pulled back and got Armie’s face between his hands. Armie nodded, breathed, containing his smile with the bite of his lip, tracing his thumb over the splotchy spots beneath Timmy’s swollen eyes with care. Timmy leaned into the touch.

“I – you…it made me feel safe. When I was…when I was on my knees.” He had to swallow his embarrassment because Armie needed to hear it. “I want this. I want you to give it to me.” He said that part twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a healthy dose of validation™ for the morning (too cute for their own good, i swear)
> 
> Thank u for reading this! It is very late and i am very sorry!
> 
> [tumblr](http://nellipot.tumblr.com)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lots of fluffy filth as an apology for not updating enough (and for self indulgent reasons)

“Tim, I get it now, you can stop.” Timmy stilled his onslaught of kisses up and down Armie’s neck and pulled back slightly, looked down at Armie’s bright smile and got a grip on the man’s chin.

“I don’t think you do though.” He said, lifting Armie’s head to kiss at his jaw. Armie let his head fall back on the couch and he closed his eyes, Timmy taking the chance to lick up his neck. He was determined to make Armie hold him for the rest of the day and was succeeding so far; Armie had kissed him hungrily when he’d finally admitted in words how happy he was to be controlled by him. Timmy’d clung his legs around Armie’s waist so tightly that there was no other option but to keep him there, and when Armie’d walked them to the couch with his teeth grazing Timmy’s shoulder, Timmy only let go slightly to make it easier for Armie to maneuver him to sit on his lap. 

“I haven’t even made you breakfast yet.” Armie said softly, not really looking like he was up for being in the kitchen anyways, seeing as his eyes were still closed. He kept both hands on Timmy’s thighs and let him hold their chests together and suck on his throat. 

“I didn’t even _want_ breakfast, I wanted to stay in bed.” He was only pouting a little bit; it had been his fault too for immediately assuming Armie was going to leave him. 

“That was very presumptuous of you,” Armie smiled, sitting back up and putting his hands under Timmy’s shirt. Timmy laughed, pulling the shirt off in one quick motion.

“Is this presumptuous too?” 

They stared at each other for a moment, until Timmy bit his lip and looked down to watch Armie’s hands skim his stomach and chest, going up his sides and thumbing at his ribs. He squeezed hard when his hands reached Timmy’s hips, and Timmy arched up involuntarily and gasped. 

“Yeah, we don’t need food,” Armie wrapped one arm around his torso and one under his thigh, pulling them up clumsily and stumbling towards his bedroom while Timmy laughed and hung on to his neck. 

The bed was cool on his bare skin as Armie laid him down, ducking under his clinging arms to kiss his stomach. He pulled down Timmy’s boxers and lifted his dick to get at his balls, sucking each one into his mouth before licking up the shaft. Timmy opened his legs wider to accommodate Armie’s knee between them, bending them slightly up to scoot closer to Armie’s mouth. Armie hooked his hands around each thigh, nuzzling his face into one and sucking long and hard, making Timmy moan loudly and thrash his head into the pillow, Armie’s stubble burning his soft skin. 

“Can I try something?” Armie whispered, lazily pumping Timmy’s dick with a grin.

“Do whatever you fucking want,” Timmy whined, his eyes closing and mouth going slack. He heard Armie laughing at him, felt a kiss by his knee and smiled, but stopped smiling when he felt the bed move and Armie disappear from between his legs. 

“I take it back,” He called out, pouting and coming up on his elbows. Armie was searching for something, had taken off his shirt in the process but was still in his boxers, bending over his dresser in front of the bed. Armie turned around, rolling his eyes and bounding toward him, covering Timmy with his body and kissing him roughly. He felt teeny tiny, holding onto Armie’s shoulder blades, resting his forehead on the mans broad shoulder before he slid back down between his thighs.

“Don’t come, alright? Not til I say.” It was a gentle command, but Timmy took it for law.

He sucked Timmy into his mouth, swirling his tongue and bobbing until he got fully hard. Just as Timmy began to thrust minutely up to him he pulled off, exchanging his mouth for light strokes of his fingers. Timmy sank further into the sheets and sighed, looked down to see Armie watching him through his lashes and kissing his hip.

“You are so fucking pretty, I want to watch you moan every second of my life.” Timmy smiled so wide his eyes closed, and he rubbed his ear on his shoulder bashfully. Armie quickened his pace with his hand and suckled on the head of his dick again, and Timmy arched back up with short, breathy noises coming from the back of his throat. Armie let it go on longer than he had before, taking Timmy deeper in his mouth and pumping him fast.

“Armie, please,” His hips were fully off the bed, his fingers curled into their blankets, and Armie stopped again, leaning back to sit further up and kiss the back of his knee. 

“Noo,” he pushed up into empty air and frowned. Armie laughed, crawled up to stroke back the hair sticking on his forehead. Timmy waited two whole seconds before he surged up to kiss him, rolling them over, rutting into Armie desperately and whining into his neck.

“Timmy, stop.” He immediately sagged on top of him at the sound of his stern tone. Armie lifted his chin to look at him. “I won’t let you come if you aren’t gonna be a good boy.” 

Timmy’s whole face went hot and he sucked in a breath. “Good boy?” He mimicked helplessly. Armie couldn’t help but smile, no longer a trace of hardness in his expression. He nodded and cupped his cheek. 

“You want to be my good boy right?” He let his head slump into Armie’s hand. That’s all he fucking wanted. He nodded with his eyes closed. 

“Then lie back down and don’t move.” 

He rolled back over quickly, spreading his legs wide and tucking both arms under his back so he wouldn’t be tempted to do anything bad. 

“Thank you,” Armie kissed his shoulder and settled back down below him. Timmy stayed still as Armie sucked a billion purple bruises up and down his thighs, scraping his chin across them and gnawing into the raw skin. He whimpered as Armie finally took him into his mouth again, whimpered when he stopped, and when the cycle started all over. Armie spoke to him the whole time - _I like you hands behind your back, you bruise so easily, your skin is the softest right…here_ it was the only thing keeping Timmy from forgetting where he was, what his name is, how he’d gotten some place so, so sweet. 

If Armie had tried to pick him up he would have been a trembling mess in his arms, the definition of pliant, a dead weight. It wasn’t until a slick finger squeezed between his cheeks and stopped to press lightly on his hole that his muscles regained their flex. 

Armie felt it, hugged his thigh but didn’t pull away. “Is this okay?”

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes, Armie –” He blabbered, too wound up but hoping he was getting across _just how okay_ he was with it. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” Timmy nodded profusely and grinded down into his touch, couldn’t help it, said sorry three times after. 

“It’s okay, baby,” Armie breathed out a laugh. 

At first he only traced him, rubbed up and down until Timmy asked for more, but then he pushed in to his second knuckle and Timmy groaned long and guttural, meeting him there with his hips. The pressure he felt was just bordering on sore and it was so, so good, the thought of how large Armie’s fingers were and how they were _inside of him_ gave him waves of pleasure.

Armie curled his finger up and pushed in further, stretching him out gently but he needed more, needed to feel the burn all the way up to his chest. 

“More, Armie – I - I wanna feel it,” he was pushing his hips up in circles, trying to fit more inside of him.

“Think you can take two?” Armie pulled out and it was such an abrupt loss that he felt winded. He poured more lube on his fingers and pushed them back inside him carefully and Timmy winced, prying his hand from underneath him and grabbing Armie’s shoulder. Armie kissed his wrist and stopped before moving again.

“Look at you taking my fingers so well,” Timmy nodded, biting his lip, happy that he was doing a good job. When Armie started to scissor him open it became too much, he needed Armie to make him come. 

“Armie I can’t - please touch me, I need to come, _please_ ,” He begged, shivering with each thrust of his fingers. Armie wrapped a hand around his aching dick.

“You can come, now,” He said, and he pulled Timmy’s release out of him in long thick spurts. Timmy felt himself pulsating on Armies fingers and sobbed, overwhelmed, every inch of his skin wanting to be touched and left alone at the same time. He felt fuzzy for minutes after, and Armie got up on his knees and started to slip out. 

Armie kneeled over him, pushing down his underwear and pumping his cock hard and fast. Timmy opened his mouth, elated that he didn’t even have to ask him to come on top of him. Armie shot on his chest and on his cheek and spread himself on top of him, small latent thrusts still consuming him. He kissed at Timmy’s neck lazily before propping himself up on both arms and kissing his mouth, nipping his lips and sucking on his tongue. 

“Just so you know, I liked all of that.” Timmy said, too blissed out to keep his eyes fully open. Armie laughed and bumped their noses together, reached for his shirt on the corner of the bed and made haste cleaning him up, flipping him to his side and circling his arms around him. He felt Armie rubbing his face in his curls and sighed, very content to miss any and all of the other meals of the day too, if Armie let him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *puts hands behind head and leans back to watch this chapter unfold as if i didn't write it: ah, yes, that's more like it
> 
> you can find me on [tumblr](http://nellipot.tumblr.com) literally any time of day. thats all i do.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> time to use that hurt/comfort tag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shows up 2 weeks late to the birthday party* ha ha it's just getting started right?? haha??? right??????????????

“So, are you gonna be dripping more peach juice here so I can get into my role?” 

Timmy shoved Armie with his shoulder as the man dragged one finger up and down his bare stomach. The push was fruitless, as they stood in the cramped space between the attic doorframe and the stairs. 

“You just can’t get over how you couldn’t think of a valid reason to ask if you could watch the shoot.” Timmy accused, eyebrows up, fists curled in to lean on Armie’s chest. 

Armie bent down towards Timmy’s ear, his hand going to the small of his back to push their bodies flush against each other. 

“You think they don’t know by now?” He whispered, his breath on Timmy’s neck, making him shiver. “By the way I look at you? By the way you’re over here, with me, and not on the bed like you’re supposed to be?”

Timmy’s face went hot. God, what if they _were_ that obvious? The thought made him more aroused than ashamed.

“Armie, what are you doing…” He breathed, staring blatantly at the man’s lips. Armie shrugged.

“Getting you ready for the best fake blow job of your life.”

Timmy pushed off of him with a huff, Armie smiling and letting him go. 

“You ass.”

“The fact that I did not get to watch you jerk off, for multiple takes, for an _entire day of shooting_ , is a very touchy subject.”

“You can watch me jerk off at literally any time.”

“But I’d want to _help_ too much.” Armie tried to pull him back in but Timmy squirmed out of his grasp.

“I’m not supposed to be here,” He said, looking at him pointedly as he walked in another direction. Armie rolled his eyes at him, his arms crossed, obviously holding in a smile. 

He fell onto the bed face first, gathering up the pillows and loose sheeting in his arms, nuzzling into the fabric and shimmying his hips just a little because Armie was probably watching, which was confirmed when he flipped over and turned his head towards him. Luca was showing him the angle at which the camera was going to film and Armie was looking past him, at Timmy with one leg bent underneath the other and both hands running up and down his torso. This was going to be fun.

He turned back towards the ceiling and closed his eyes. Armie was going to be on his _knees_ next to him, people were gonna see this scene not as an exchange of power, but pure want, need, to make Elio feel good as soon as he sees him lying there. The idea made him hum. 

It took a few takes to get Armie’s legs bent right, so the audience could watch him place kisses down Timmy’s chest but not see – everything else. So he just got to lie there, as Armie came up to him again and again, sucked at his skin, hinted at pulling down his waistband. He felt so tingly by the fourth time, and Armie had started running his hands across his shoulders by the third, taking care of him, holding him in place.

He knew the camera was rolling, and he knew Armie’s lips weren’t actually going to be on his dick, hell he _saw_ that they weren’t, but Armie still pushed down his shorts far enough to see dark hair peaking out, looked at him through the corner of his eye as he spread a hand out on Timmy’s stomach and bobbed his head, his hot breath spreading throughout Timmy’s whole body. 

He watched Armie through Elio’s eyes, saw this beautiful man pleasuring him, accusing him, but making him feel no guilt. Letting him be exactly who he was. Oliver only smiled at his shame, challenged it, and Timmy saw why Elio would fight. It was confusing, it was eye-opening. How could someone love him enough to accept him in this way?

Oliver loved Elio. He loved every part of him, even the parts that he shouldn’t have to deal with, and Timmy let that love consume him, overwhelm him enough that his tears were just a consequence of it. How terrible it was to feel nostalgic for something right in front of you. How beautiful it felt to be witnessing it in the first place. 

He cried, took a gasping breath with his forehead in the pit of Armie’s stomach, felt weighted down and nauseous with all the thoughts spinning in his mind. Armie pulled him up, rubbed his back, scooted closer to this aching mess.

Elio wouldn’t look at Oliver right now, so he didn’t. He looked past him with a shaking hand on his mouth as Armie rubbed the nape of his neck and held his head in both hands. 

“It’s okay,” Armie whispered, face in his curls.

“It’s okay,” Armie whispered, when Timmy surged up to feel his lips on his and push a hand in his hair, the hand on Timmy’s cheek not enough to nuzzle into.

“It’s okay,” Armie whispered, kissing his eyes shut, his temple, just below his ear. 

He held on tight and frowned into Armie’s shoulder, appreciating the feeling of their skin together, of Armie’s hands all over him. He was only there in that moment, only feeling what he was feeling and only feeling it with Armie, and Oliver.

“I don’t want you to go,” He sobbed out loud. _What are we doing here_ , he said in his head.

He pulled back when they cut and Armie wiped a tear off his cheek, took a thumb and dragged it under his leaking nose. He jerked his head away at that and scrunched his face, but Armie followed him with a soft smile, did it again and rubbed the top of his arm. He felt soft and bloated, and tired, so tired.

“Good, boys.” They looked up to Luca, who nodded. “Now from the top.”

\--

Armie put a hand on top of his in the cab ride home and it was enough for a while, the only sounds coming from the car as it bumped against the road. But then he began tracing over Timmy’s knuckles with his thumb and Timmy looked over to him from where he was staring out the window. Their eyes met, and Armie’s were saying, pleading, urging, _come on,_ come on, _let me do this. I know you. I’ll take it from here._ So Timmy bit his lip, still deep red and blood-rushed, and scooted over to fit into his side. Armie wrapped around him immediately and they both let out long breaths, Timmy fisting Armie’s shirt and Armie thumbing the nape of his neck.

Timmy heard the bath running but stayed where Armie placed him when they walked through the doors. He was sleepy in the way his face felt warm and sensitive, and his eyes felt rubbed raw. He was staring at the floor aimlessly when Armie came back into the room. Armie crowded him from behind and ran his hands down the expanse of Timmy’s arms, up his torso, his lips locked on Timmy’s neck. 

Armie snuck his fingers under Timmy’s shirt and crawled up, up, until he reached the smooth skin of his chest, forcing Timmy to lift his arms because he wasn’t stopping there. He pulled Timmy’s shirt off of his head, and got his lips back behind his ear again before Timmy could whine at the loss. 

He turned to hook his chin on Timmy’s shoulder and they both watched his arms circle around his waist to undo the button of his jeans. Timmy was turned around after his boxers got pushed down and he clung to Armie’s body, unable to reach his shoulder with his cheek until Armie hiked him up by his thighs. Timmy thought he could fall asleep right then, with his legs around Armie’s waist and the small thumps of Armie’s feet jostling him up and down his chest. 

His head felt so heavy, so burnt out, it hung low as Armie set him down next to the tub.

“Armie.” He managed to breathe out.

“I know; get inside sweetheart.” Armie guided him to sit in the tub and crouched over to run his hand through the water, reaching back to turn the knob a little more to the right. 

Armie carded fingers through his hair, matting them down, and Timmy looked up at him and frowned.

“I’m too tall Tim,” And he was _not_ going to cry about that, he was done crying. Armie’s hand was on his cheek and he looked down at him with his forehead worried and wrinkled. “I’m sorry, I’m right here though, I’m so sorry.”

Armie washed his hair, pulling the curls back and forth and scratching behind his ears. He closed his eyes and let his head get turned and pushed. He felt fingers massaging the back of his neck and taking him down so his ears were under the warm tap, holding his head up to pull the soap out of it. Armie stood him up and all the water falling off of him was so loud for the quiet room. 

“All nice and clean,” Armie sing songed under his breath as he fussed over him, rubbing Timmy’s arms over the towel he wrapped around him, helping him step out of the bath to drip on the tile floor. He dried Timmy’s hair, then his back, then his legs one at a time. Timmy leaned his head onto him when he stood back up, curling his arms into the man’s chest. Armie smoothed down his hair. 

“Sleep time.”

It was maybe 7 o’clock, but Timmy still held onto Armies shoulders, and stepped into the boxers Armie pulled onto him, and took Armie’s hand as he led them to his bed. 

“You okay?” He finally asked, holding Timmy’s face the same way Oliver did as they laid there tangled together. Timmy nodded.

“Am now.”

“You did amazing today.” He nodded again. 

“You’re so _talented_ Timmy, I can’t – ” Armie kissed his forehead, stroking his temple and Timmy hummed gratefully. 

Elio was engrained in him right now, how he thought, what he was feeling, a second skin Armie was washing away, that Armie knew to wash away. The same way Armie knew everything else about him. Maybe Armie loved him, and even if Armie didn’t love him, he was still his Oliver, still the person that challenged Timmy’s shame with his own. Mercifully, he was already buried in Armie’s chest when this came to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think i had a lot to say in this chapter and so i procrastinated it because i didn't know how to say it and yah. as soon as filming ends i'm thinking this will also end? i mean there're a couple more things i want them to do together (heh) so i'm not adding how many chapters thats gonna be. anyways! love you guys a lot! thanks for reading!


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